Gamer In Thedas
by Lichrune
Summary: When I fell asleep last night I didn't expect to wake up in Fereldan. Only, that's exactly what happened. And now I'm on the Imperial Highway in 9:28 Dragon and I've been tasked by a mysterious letter to help The Warden through the Blight. Self-Insert.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: This disclaimer applies to all chapters in this story: Everything you recognize belongs to Bioware. **

**A/N: Hello, dear readers! I've been an avid reader on this fine website for several years now and I thought that I would finally try my hand at writing some fan fiction. This will be the first piece of creative writing I've ever really done, so constructive criticism would be most welcome. If you spot any inconsistencies with canon, do please inform me. I will be changing some things (as will be seen in this opening chapter) to make the world of Thedas fit a bit more with what one would expect from real life and what the fine people at Bioware didn't have time, or weren't able to show. Without further preamble, here it is, and I hope you enjoy my humble efforts!**

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Chapter 1

It was bright. Brighter than it should have been. Those were the first thoughts that entered my still sleep-befuddled mind. The second one was that I was cold. These two thoughts were enough to leave me confused. Why, you ask? Because last night I had drawn the curtains of the two windows in my room to ensure I was not woken up too early and then promptly fallen asleep under my thick duvet. The radiator would have kicked in during the night. There was no reason why I should be cold or be able to sense sunlight behind my closed eyelids. I opened my eyes, expecting to maybe discover that I had got out of bed in the night, opened the curtains and opened a window. That would have distressed me a great deal less than what I saw before me. I had been fully expecting to see my small room at my boarding school in all its glory: bed, desk, wardrobe, sink, a few shelves filled with all the necessities of school life and the reassuring humming of my laptop's fans. That's not what I saw and heard. Oh, no. What I _actually_ saw as I sat up in shock and panic whilst looking around myself was that I was lying in the middle of some sort of stone paved road that was wide enough for four cars to drive alongside one another on it. On either side of the road were low stone walls of what seemed to be good quality running alongside the road, like some sort of crash barrier. I stood up in a daze, struggling to comprehend what I was seeing. All around the road was country side and a few trees dotted about. I could see some smoke stretching up into the sky ahead of me, in which direction the road seemed to be heading.

It was at this point that I realised that I was standing there, gawping at everything, while being completely naked. Momentarily suspending my shock I crouched down to look at the only item of interest to me that I could see. Where I had been lying down was a decent sized bag that seemed to be made out of some sort of rough cloth. I hadn't noticed it before. I picked it up and was about to up end it on the ground when a noise broke my concentration. I stopped and listened. There. I could hear it again. If I wasn't mistaken it sounded like a man laughing. It was coming from the bend in the road behind me.

Not wanting to confront this laughing man in the state I was, I grabbed the bag, ran the short distance to the right side wall of the road and leapt over it before sitting down behind it, waiting, listening. A few anxious minutes later I heard two men talking to each other and the sound of metal on stone and creaking wood.

"Are you sure we'll get more silver for the apples in Lothering, Pa?" said a man's voice speaking in English. Behind the wall, I froze, scarcely believing what I had just heard, barely registering a man with a deeper voice's reply.

"Aye, Tam's been taken ill these past few weeks and hasn't collected as many as last season, they'll be short."

I missed the rest of the conversation as the sounds of the people talking gradually got further and further away until I risked peeking my head over the wall. Two men sitting on the top of a small horse drawn cart filled with crates. I dimly remembered hearing the words "Denerim" and "Cailan" while I was trying to think through what had happened to me. I brushed that to the back of my mind, very much in denial, and emptied out the bag that I had rescued from the road. A pile of clothes, a piece of parchment, a small purse, boots, and… a dagger fell out. I rifled through the clothes hurriedly, looking to see what there was. I pulled on some soft garment that I could only describe as reminding me of boxers… but in a more medieval-ish way. Over that went a tan coloured hose, a billowy white tunic and what looked like a light brown gambeson, not great protection but I wasn't planning on getting in a fight any time soon. I pulled on the conveniently provided socks and comfortable brown boots which came up about halfway up my calf's. Having made myself decent I unfolded the parchment and started reading it, hoping for answers.

_You have been chosen to become a part of this world, two years before the defeat at Ostagar. Help The Warden through the Blight and ensure that the archdemon is defeated, do this and you may be returned to your previous world. _

My mind screamed for answers. How was this possible? This was a game. People didn't just wake up in games. And yet, here I was. I had no doubts that this was real. There was no way this was a dream. A dream would never have been this lucid. You couldn't feel the wind in your hair in a dream, hear the birds chirping in the trees and feel the soft muddy ground beneath your feet in a dream. This was no dream. Anguish and self-pity welled up inside me. How could this happen to me? What did I do to deserve ending up in a game, no, world, that would soon be overrun by a rampaging horde of monsters whose very blood was fatal and threatened every sentient being with extinction?

I put my hand in my mouth and bit as hard as I could. I thought it would help me focus my mind on the task at hand. It didn't. It just hurt and left me with a small bleeding puncture wound. After about ten minutes I managed to pull my roiling emotions and thoughts into some semblance of order and I started to focus on what I was going to do now. I picked the purse up and emptied it out on the top of the wall beside the road. Coins spilled out. After picking up a few which had fallen off the wall, I looked at what I had: fifteen gold and ten silver coins were lined up on the wall. Considering how much weapons and armour cost while playing the game on my Xbox 360 I thought that at least I shouldn't starve to death in the immediate future. I put the coins back in the purse and then thought about how I was going to carry it; the hose had no pockets and neither did the gambeson or the shirt.

My eyes fell upon the dagger in the brown leather sheath. Wrapped around the sheath was a black belt with a metal buckle and clips on both sides of it to fix weapons to. I put the belt around my waist, attached the sheath to it and adjusted it until it didn't impede my movement and swung from my right hip. Finally, I pulled the dagger out and inspected it. It looked to be about a foot long. The blade was tapered and seemed to be made of fine steel, it was razor sharp. The hilt of the dagger was leather wrapped, with a small cross-guard and the pommel was slightly pointed toward the end, all the better to hit people with, I thought. All in all it seemed like a fine weapon and I was satisfied that I wouldn't be completely defenceless.

After having firmly secured the purse to my belt using the string on it, I moved back onto the road and followed it towards the smoke rising up in the distance, towards Lothering if what the men on the cart had said was correct.

After about an hour's walk, in which I crossed a few travellers going away from Lothering, I came to the part of the Imperial Highway (which is what I thought I was on) where you met Bodam and Sandal in the game. I followed the exit off the highway and made my way to Lothering which was about one hundred meters ahead of me. It looked significantly bigger than it had in the game. Made sense, I guess, Bioware being constrained by the game engine meant that they probably couldn't have too big of an area in the game. Lothering looked to a well established town with a population of maybe a couple thousand. It had a nine foot tall palisade ringing it, although this seemed to be a relic of a past era, as the wood seem ill maintained and rotting in places. It made sense that Lothering would be more significant in reality than it was made out to be in the games, it being at a crossroads of the Imperial Highway and being an important link between Redcliffe and Denerim.

* * *

I had made my way to the Dane's Refuge and was now sat at a table with a loaf of bread, some cheese and a mug of ale which I had bought for the grand total of one silver and twenty bits. On my way to Lothering I had wondered how I could be sure of meeting The Warden, no matter what origin he or she came from. I had decided that my best bet would be to make my way to Denerim and somehow join the Grey Wardens. If I managed to do that, considering their low numbers, I would be guaranteed to meet Duncan, Alistair and eventually find myself at Ostagar, with all the other Wardens. The hard part would be getting accepted into the Wardens. Grey Wardens were the best of the best and my swordsmanship skills were limited. I had been fencing for the past five years and considered myself quite a good fencer, but I wasn't sure how well those skills would translate to the swords used in this time.

Although, maybe it wasn't completely a lost cause. After all, Daveth was supposedly Conscripted by Duncan because Daveth had managed to steal Duncan's money purse. In the game it was said that the army at Ostagar had already won several victories against the darkspawn, one could assume that that would mean that the army had been at Ostagar for a few months. So, depending on when the darkspawn emerged from the Deep Roads I should have at least a year to train and become skilled enough to impress Duncan enough to recruit me. Assuming the Wardens also knew about the Blight some time before it emerged above ground could also cause Duncan to want as many recruits as possible, thus increasing my chances.

There were a lot of ifs and buts in my plan but hopefully I would get lucky and whoever brought me here would discreetly help me along my way, after all, some things had to be set in place for me to meet The Warden, right?

I spent a couple more hours at the inn, drinking two more ales (which were pretty good), and thinking up various plans before deciding that my first one was the most reliable. I paid five silvers for a small room for the night to the innkeeper, stripped to my tunic and smallclothes and collapsed on the bed, mentally exhausted after such an eventful day.

* * *

I awoke to the smell of fresh bread and sunlight streaming through the window. Feeling refreshed and well rested I got dressed, belted the dagger to my waist and walked out the room to the inn's common room.

Breakfast (which went with the use of the room for a night) consisted of porridge, which I hungrily wolfed down. After thanking the innkeeper I left the inn and looked around, wondering where the market, Lothering being quite different to how it was in the game. A boy was watching me curiously and I beckoned him over with a hand gesture.

"Hello, I'm new to Lothering and I was wondering if you could tell me where the market is?"

"You have to go down that street, past Ned the baker and turn left when you get to Krevek, he's the blacksmith, he lets me watch him work sometimes, and you'll be at the market"

I thanked him and give him a bit for his troubles. He flashed me a grin and ran back to his friends, showing off his prize triumphantly.

I made my way to the market following the boy's directions. Since I didn't know the way to Denerim I thought that the best thing to do would be to find other travellers going there or a merchant caravan and to ask to join their party. It would also provide safety in numbers; I had no idea whether or not bandits and outlaws were common before the chaos of the Blight.

That said, though, I would need a few supplies and some other equipment which I thought I'd need. The market was a moderate size, with a couple dozen stalls and shops, and soon I had acquired a sturdy pack which I filled with a flint and tinder, a thick tunic, a bed roll, a blanket, a cloak, a wooden bowl and spoon, a wineskin and enough food for three days.

On my way back to the town square, which was where the inn was, I stopped at the blacksmiths and considered what I would buy. Looking at the wares that the smith had on display, I wasn't entirely satisfied.

I couldn't remember what the boy had said the smith's name was. I'd been careful to make my way of speaking a bit more 'old fashioned'; I didn't exactly want to draw attention to myself.

"Good day, Master Blacksmith. Would you happen to have anything of higher… quality stored somewhere that I could buy?" I enquired.

The blacksmith, a tall burly man with howitzers for arms and a cheerful attitude looked up from his work and replied: "Aye, lad. What were yer lookin' for?"

"A mail hauberk, if you have one, and a longsword."

The smith nodded and gestured for me to follow him, whilst asking over his shoulder "And what would a young lad like you be wantin' those for?"

"Protection, I'd rather have them and not need them than not have them and need them."

He grunted in agreement and I followed him into a backroom of his smithy with a rack of mail armour and a few half decent looking swords. I picked up one of the hauberks and held it against my chest. It had full sleeves and ended halfway down my knees. It was heavy, but I didn't think I have too much trouble wearing it.

"What's this one made out of?" I asked.

"That's me best one, made out of steel."

"I'll take it."

I looked at the swords. They didn't look like they were in great condition if the scabbards and hilts were anything to go on but one of them, also made out of steel, looked decent so I bought it too. Along with my new armour and sword, I purchased a whetstone from the smith.

Walking out of the smithy wearing the mail over my gambeson and the sword belted over it suffused me with new confidence in my planned jaunt to Denerim. The hauberk had weighed quite heavily on my shoulders to start off with but when I had put my belt on over it some of the weight was redistributed to my hips, making it manageable. My purchases from the market and the blacksmith's had cost me a total of two sovereigns.

I strolled around the town for some time, visiting the chantry and enjoying the novelty of being in Ferelden while it lasted. As I left the Chantry I saw nine large wagons drawing into Lothering. Each wagon was pulled by a team of two horses and had a teamster sitting atop it, with a few mounted guards riding alongside.

_This looks like my chance to get out of Lothering_, I thought to myself, watching the wagons draw to a halt inside the town and the men watering the horses.

"Who is in charge of this convoy?" I asked one of the guards, who was carrying a shield with the arms of Redcliffe emblazoned upon it.

He pointed to a fat man wearing a colourful blue and green tunic being helped down from a wagon. I made my way towards the man and called out to him.

"Morning, I was told you lead this wagon train."

He looked at me with interest, his eyes drifting to the sword buckled to my left hip and taking in my fine clothes (I had deduced they were good quality from the fact that everyone else I had seen in Lothering wore worn clothes that seemed ill-fitting and patched). He would have seen a six foot one eighteen year old with broad shoulders, short brown hair, grey-brown eyes and a body fit from athletics, fencing and regular gym attendance.

"I do, I'm Jarva, a merchant in the employ of the Arl of Redcliffe, bound for Denerim with goods to sell, and how can I help you, boy?"

"I'm…"_damn, I'm half French so I can't give him my real name, which would sound 'Orlesian', it hasn't been that long since the Orlesian occupation and I don't want people being suspicious of me, hmm… better think of one, history lessons don't fail me now! _"Morcar. _" There, that has a nice ring to it, and, it was the name of a noble during the Norman era. _

"I wanted to join your caravan; I have business in Denerim but am loath to travel alone, being unfamiliar with the way and looking for safety in numbers. I thought I might make myself useful as an additional escort. It would benefit us both. You acquire an extra sword free of charge, and I reach my intended destination."

Jarva looked at me thoughtfully for a few moments before nodding at my sword. "You make a sound argument. You know how to use that, Morcar?"

_I hesitated. Should I lie to him? No. He could call my bluff and have any of the guards test my skills. Best to be honest; he seems like a nice enough man._

"I admit that I have only taken up the sword recently, and that my skills are rudimentary, but I learn quickly and I'm sure that the fine men of Redcliffe would be willing to further instruct me."

"Wait here a moment, I will consult with my associate."

He walked off to go talk with a tall man who looked like he was in his forties bedecked in hauberk, mail chausses and a helm tucked into the crook of his arm. They spoke for a few moments before Jarva went off to speak to one of the teamsters and the soldier he had been speaking to beckoned me over.

Up close he seemed like a no-nonsense, hard-bitten veteran with a scar under his eyes and greying black hair. He scrutinised me even more than Jarva had before nodding, seeming satisfied.

"You'll do." He grunted. "I lost two men to a bandit attack three days past, so we're a bit short. It'll be two weeks before we reach the capital. Jarva has been generous and said your to be fed from our supplies, as I said, we have more than we need now. You'll work guard duty with us and if you pull your weight and we trust you we might allow you to take watch at night. You can use Gorm's old horse, the black gelding." He paused, looking at me doubtfully. "You do know how to ride, don't you?"

"Well enough." I replied. I had done horse-riding for a few years when I was younger, so I thought it would come back to me easily enough.

"Name's Sergeant Marn, by the way, we'll get on our way again in an hour. Be here then."

One hour later I found myself riding out of Lothering on a dead man's horse in a universe that twenty-four hours earlier I had thought wasn't real.

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**A/N: And there you have it. If you have any questions, feel free to leave a comment and I'll get back to you in the next chapters A/N. Do please review and I'll get the next chapter uploaded asap. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello! Sorry for the delay in getting the new chapter up; I got a bit excited about finally being on holidays. Thanks for the review Apollo ! It really cheered me up and made me want to carry on writing.**

** Could I also please ask everyone who read the last chapter and plan to carry on reading this story to please review when you do so, especially those of you who have Favourited and Followed this story, it doesn't take long to do so and it really motivates me to write more chapters! Anyway, that's enough from me, so enjoy!**

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Chapter 2

**Ten days later.**

I groaned as I swung down from the saddle. While the actual riding wasn't hard, spending a whole day in the saddle left me with the unwelcome side effects of a sore ass and stiff muscles. The past ten days had been nothing if not monotonous. Wake up. Break camp. Ride. Camp by the highway or outside a town. Sleep. Wake up… You get the idea. And how I loved it. It gave me time to think. Time to think how messed up my life had become. Time to come up with answers to questions that I would doubtlessly be asked. Time to come up with a new life and personal history.

I picketed the horse I had been lent and made my way to the others. Our merry band of men consisted of nine teamsters, Jarva and his assistant Kend, Sergeant Marn and three other guards, who went by the names of Gendrik, Jeor and Tybalt.

Jeor was a bear of a man. Almost seven-foot of solid slabs of muscle, he was certainly a fearsome sight. He also loved to talk about his newborn son, who was currently being nursed at his mother's breast in Redcliffe and for whom each night he carved a wooden horse by the fire each night. Gendrik was a soft spoken man in his thirties who often discussed the merits of various weapons with Tybalt. From listening to them tonight, it was apparently better to tackle an opponent wearing plate with the mace, and an opponent wearing mail with the spiked club.

Each night before supper I sparred with one of the guards, under the supervision of Marn, who had for some reason taken it on as his personal duty to make a better swordsman of me. Tonight I was to practice with Tybalt, a man in his mid-twenties who was friendly to me and who Marn considered to be a 'good' swordsman. This worried me. It worried me as I had observed that Marn was rather sparing in his complements, thus, if Tybalt was 'good', then I'm sure that I would have a real challenge facing me. The first time I had faced him I managed to parry three blows before he bested me. Five days after that, after having practiced with the others, modified some of my fencing techniques and familiarised myself better with how to use a longsword, I lasted much longer in our spar and succeeded in getting a glancing blow on his arm. A further five days later, after having tweaked my already present skills with the épée, sabre and having received a crash course in fighting with a shield, I thought that I might have a chance at defeating Tybalt.

I was jarred out of my musings as I heard a whistling sound. I dodged to the left, feeling the wooden stave pass within centimetres of my mailed right shoulder. I riposted, swinging my stave towards his ribs. Tybalt brought his stave back around. A flash of wood heading towards my head. I raised my borrowed Redcliffe kite shield above my head. His stave impacted the shield at the same time as I hit his side. The blow jarred my left arm as he grunted in pain, doubling over and grasping the area where I had hit him. Not letting up, I swept my stave up, deflecting the shorter stave he had been using in his left hand as a dagger substitute and bashed him with my shield with all the strength I could muster and throwing in my whole body behind it for good measure.

He was bowled over. Before he could recover I moved quickly to where he had fallen and put the tip of my stave against his exposed neck.

"You're dead." I breathed out. Still feeling the effects of a blow I had taken earlier to the chest which had winded me. He scowled at me before accepting my hand to get up.

"You're alright, I suppose. You had to get lucky eventually." Tybalt replied, obviously pained at having been defeated by what he saw as a lad of eighteen that they had picked up in Lothering.

"That's probably true." I granted graciously, while on the inside I was crowing in triumph.

* * *

After Marn remonstrated Tybalt for allowing his cockiness to get the better of him and congratulated me on winning a bout against an experienced soldier, we sat down by the fire to talk and have our supper.

I was pleasantly surprised at the results of my latest weapons practice. I hadn't been sure whether my previous chosen sport of fencing would stand me in good stead as far as wielding longswords and other weapons of the period went. After a couple hours of practice each night though, the longsword had started to feel more like an old friend, and less like a strange unfamiliar object.

I had also been introduced to the shield, and how to use it as both an offensive and defensive weapon. I was made to learn that the shield was to be held in such a way towards oncoming blows so that they didn't just impact the top, but were deflected by it and veered off of it towards the ground. The shield could also be used to charge people and hit them with brutal kinetic energy or the point on a kite shield could be used to jab people in lower areas of their bodies, or once they were on the ground.

"And what about you, Morcar?"

Startled out of my thoughts, I blurted out "What?"

Kend, a small, wiry man with a permanently harried look smiled indulgingly at me and explained:

"We were talking about the caravan's journey to Denerim and I asked you why you were going to Denerim."

I hesitated. _Should I just come out and tell them the truth or should I make up a banal lie about visiting a relative or going to see the big city? I'm not sure how Wardens are regarded two years before the Blight. I know Cailan reveres them and that people like Ser Jory and Ser Gilmore did also. I'm sure that they're still considered an ancient and honourable order; after all, Loghain hasn't had the chance to make them the scapegoats for Cailan's death._

"I'm going to join the Grey Wardens." _At least that's the plan…_

Silence greeted me. _Ah yes, that's right. They think they don't need Grey Wardens anymore. After all, it's not like there's going to be a Blight. Oh wait. There is. _

Tybalt looked at me askance.

"The Grey Wardens! They're relics of a bygone era. You shouldn't go wasting your life following childhood fantasies. I'm sure our captain would be willing to take you on if you come back to Redcliffe with us."

"Childhood fantasies? Are you saying the past four Blight's were nothing but the imagination of bored scholars? I can imagine no worthier cause than that of the Wardens, and they are sorely in need of volunteers. I've heard that the Wardens in Ferelden number no more than two dozen. There are still tw… three Old Gods left; therefore we can expect three more Blights. Does Ferelden have enough Wardens to succeed if a Blight breaks out tomorrow or next week? I think not." _Or two years from now,_ I thought grimly.

"Alright, alright, you're right… I spoke hastily, but still, the Warden's? You're going to have to impress someone you know; you can't just walk in and sign your name."

My mood soured. _That's the major problem in my plan. Duncan has been Warden-Commander for quite a number of years and has been a negligent Warden-Commander. King Maric had held Duncan and the Wardens in high regard, as his son now does. And yet in all those years he's been in command he's never gone to Soldier's Peak or acquired more than two dozen Wardens. The Anderfels have one thousand Wardens. Orlais three hundred. So yes, a Commander of the Grey somewhat lax in his duty. I can only hope that there will have been some faint signs of the Blight to convince Duncan to recruit more actively. If not… if not I'll have to reveal the Warden secrets I know. He would have to conscript me then; he wouldn't allow someone with my knowledge of the Wardens to walk away with his precious secrets._

"I know." I replied.

Tybalt looked at me searchingly for a few moments, looking as if he was making his mind up about something.

"As long as you know what you're getting yourself into, I wish you luck."

"Thanks…"

Conversation resumed normally after that, and after some time had passed I excused myself to go bed down for the night.

* * *

I woke up, relieved myself, breakfasted with the others and proceeded to go back to pack my things for the day's ride. After having put away my bedroll and blanket into my pack I pulled on my gambeson and then shrugged into the hauberk. I fastened the sword belt around my waist and hoisted myself into the saddle of my black gelding. He was a nice horse, even-tempered and fond of the apples that I would sneak to him when I could filch them from Kend. We had camped outside a small village for the night, I didn't know the name, but it was a quaint little place and I bought a nifty little boot knife that a travelling merchant was peddling in the village. For the price of a few extra bits he sewed a concealed sheath for it on the inside of my right boot that was comfortable and very good at hiding the knife.

Jarva had told me this morning that because of the fine weather we had made good time and could expect to be in sight of Denerim in three days. There was nothing special about the early hours of our ride. We rode, chatting as we went, nodding to the travellers that we passed. We stopped for a light lunch of salted pork, beef and cheese at noon and, once we were done, we set off again for Denerim. While Tybalt, Gendrik, Jeor and Marn had been wary of bandits for most of the journey, now, so close to Denerim and it's safely patrolled land, the guards had assured me that no one in their right mind would dare attack a merchant train for fear of being swiftly brought to justice.

It would thus seem that the bandits that waylaid us were not in their right minds. We had been forced off the Imperial Highway two hours after noon because of a bridge blockaded with a large fallen tree that would have granted us access over a large, fast flowing stream. It would have been easy to cross it on foot, but alas we had wagons to take across.

Jarva and Marn finished conferring with each other and the teamsters started turning the wagons around.

"How are we going to Denerim now?" I asked.

"We're going to take that road we crossed half an hour's way back. The going will be slower because of the poor ground, but we don't have a choice." Marn explained to me, while the others listened in.

Before the wagons had even started on their way back fourteen bandits charged out of the woods surrounding the highway, four of them making for the carts, while the other ten focused on us.

Marn snarled in anger and disgust as soon as he saw them and bellowed out:

"Stay with the wagons, lads! Don't let them draw you away from them! We'll make this scum rue the day they decided to attack the men o'the Cliffe!"

I grasped my sword's hilt, shakily freeing it from the scabbard with my right hand while thrusting my left arm through the straps on my shield. The bandits were fifty meters away and closing. I was a nervous wreck. Practising with a whittled stick by the campfire and fencing for sport were completely different to being faced with the prospect of an angry mob of bandits wielding daggers, clubs, falchions and maces. Tybalt, seeing my apprenhension, encouraged me:

"Come on, Morcar! You've nothing to fear from this ill-trained and ill-equipped rabble!"

"I've never killed anyone before…" I stammered out.

"These buggers want to kill us, are you going to let them?" He roared out.

Suddenly it all became all very clear to me. Before my mind had been racing with thoughts that these poor peasants were nothing more than desperate men who needed to rob us to provide for their families. Then I started thinking a bit more selfishly. _These bandits want to kill me! The bastards! I'll be damned if I'll make it easy for them! _

"That's the spirit!"

_Oh, I must have said that aloud. _Moments later though, the time for thought was over.

A bandit rushed at me. He was wearing a leather jerkin and wielding a falchion. He swung for my right leg. I parried and then nudged the horse forward to get in a better position to strike down at him. I chopped down with my sword aiming for his neck. He brought his falchion up to parry the attack. The weight of gravity and the force I had put behind the stroke was too great. He managed to deflect the sword from his neck, but it just slid and thumped into his right shoulder. He screamed and fell to the ground, clutching his shoulder. I watched in horrified fascination the damage I had just done to the man.

While I had been taking care of my opponent Tybalt, Gendrik and Jeor had each killed a bandit each. Marn was finishing off his second. One of the bandits scrabbling at the wagons had been dispatched by Kend. One of the teamsters was lying in a pool of blood face down on the ground. Another was grasping at his stomach, trying to hold stem the blood from a wound he had received to the gut. That left seven bandits still up with two teamsters out of action.

"Morcar! Stop him!" Marn was pointing at a bandit who was being fended off by Jarva on one of the wagons, but Jarva was tiring fast and the bandit was fast.

I spurred my horse to the wagon in question and raised my sword in preparation to take the man unawares from behind. Before I got close enough to strike I felt a tugging on my left boot. Before I had time to turn around the tug became a powerful downwards pull and I was dragged from the saddle. The impact on the stone cobbles winded me. Metal came scything down above me. My sword lost in the fall, I swung my shield up to protect myself. A massive blow on my shield numbed my arm and knocked the shield down on me. An axe head sprouted out of the wood, millimetres from my arm. The bandit tugged on the axe, but it was stuck in the shield. Spotting an opportunity, I slid out my dagger from its sheath on my belt and then slipped my arm out of the straps on the shield as the bandit pulled on the axe again.

He stumbled back, the axe in his hands at last, but with a shield attached to it. I pushed myself to my feet and charged at him, going low and tackling him to the ground. Before he could try to push me off I brought the dagger down with all my strength into his chest.

Leaving the dagger there I picked up my sword where it had fallen a few metres away and ran to where Jarva was cowering before the bandit. The bandit must have heard my boots stomping on the road as I ran towards him, as he started turning around, but it was too late. I thrust my sword into his chest and it slid in easily, no armour obstructing it, until it burst out of his back. I angled him towards the road and pushed on his body with my boot, my hand on the hilt, until it slid free and he slumped down onto the road. I nodded at Jarva and he nodded back thankfully. I sat on the wagon, catching my breath.

I looked around the caravan to see how the others had fared. Gendrik was dispatching the last bandit and Tybalt and Jeor were bandaging the teamster who had taken a cut to the stomach. Marn was still standing and was dragging the bandits to the side of the road. I stood up to go help him, recovering my dagger from the corpse of the bandit as I went and picketing my horse to one of the wagons. I realised I was still clutching my sword tightly in my hand. I wiped the blood from it using a rag in the back of a wagon and then scabbarded it. I noticed blood on my left arm. A few mail links were rent below my wrist and I saw a jagged wound on my arm. It seemed that the axe hadn't missed my after all. The adrenaline started wearing off and the wound starting throbbing with pain. I grimaced and tried to ignore the pain.

"What now?" I asked Marn, who had acquired a shallow cut on his cheek.

He turned to look at me, inspecting the blood on my hands and the blood that was dripping from my left arm.

"You did well, Morcar. That was your first fight wasn't it?"

I nodded.

"I saw how you fought those three bandits, you should be proud, many greater men have received a dagger in the ribs after having been unhorsed."

The words confused me. I hadn't imagined Marn as one to enjoy killing people.

"What is there to be proud of? I ended the lives of three men."

He smiled approvingly at me. "I'm not saying you should delight in slaughter, lad, but you should be proud that in killing those bandits you protected others that could not protect themselves. Jarva, for instance; had you not killed the man assailing him, Jarva would be dead."

That made wiped away whatever guilt I had still been feeling.

"Have that wound seen to by Jeor; he's good at that sort of thing. Then loot whatever you think of value from the bandits and put it in Jarva's wagon… You think you can do that?"

I nodded, uncomfortable at the prospect at searching dead men's bodies but knowing that there was no point in allowing things to go to waste.

* * *

Marn was right. Jeor was indeed good at patching people up. He'd cleaned the wound, tutting at me as he did, and then sewed it up and wrapped a bandage around it, telling me to come see him immediately if it reddened and turned infected. I promised I would and then set about the grisly task of pilling the bandits weapons, what armour was still intact and whatever personal possessions they had that I thought might be worth selling.

One of the bandits had some nice leather gloves that fit me, so I took those along with some sturdy plate bracers, after asking Marn for permission. The rent in my mail sleeve would have to be fixed in a smithy, so I thought it best to cover it with some extra armour. It had also started getting a bit colder; thus the gloves.

A part from what I had recovered for myself the haul from the bandits wasn't spectacular. The most valuable things were a mail haubergeon and a gold ring studded with a small emerald taken from the same bandit, probably the leader. The aftermath was a sombre affair with the deaths of two of our number. After we had been on the alternate road for two hours we stopped to bury Kend and Carac, the teamster. I hadn't really talked to Carac but Kend had been kind to me during our journey and even though I hadn't known him for long I mourned his passing along with the others. Jarva said some words from the Chant of Light and then we travelled onwards in silence towards Denerim.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Here's Chapter 3! The reviews really encouraged me to bang this out as fast as I could, so that's the cause for the speedy update. So, the more reviews I get, the more likely you'll get a prompt update!**

**I'd like to thank Apollo and NIX'S WARDEN for their reviews and especially Wyolake for her reassuring critique and for adding my story to her community!**

**NIX'S WARDEN = In response to your question I've planned for what direction I want this story to go in and I have answers to both your questions, however I'm going to withhold that information so as to keep suspense fresh! Sorry! In recompense, here's a small morsel of information: The Warden will be female.**

* * *

Chapter 3

The rest of the journey had been thankfully uneventful. We had arrived in Denerim after two weeks of travel from Lothering, it had been three more days after the ambush until we arrived in Denerim late in the afternoon and drew up at the Arl of Redcliffe's estate. It was a large walled compound with a manor for the Arl's use and barracks for ours. We stabled the horses and left the wagons in the courtyard. Marn had said that various merchants would be coming tomorrow to buy the products that had been carted from Redcliffe and that they would leave two days later with supplies which the Arl had ordered be bought.

The next day, once we were all well rested and restored after the journey, Jarva insisted on giving me fifty silvers for my 'services' and for saving his life. Marn had grunted at the state of my damaged shield and come back some minutes later and gifted me with a wooden kite shield, stretched over with hide on the front and the arms of Redcliffe painted on it. The sides of the shield were reinforced with bands of red steel and the end tapered into a point, it was a fine gift indeed. Jeor and Gendrik had wished me well and then it had been time to address Tybalt, the closest thing to a friend I had in this universe.

"You're off to join the Wardens, then?"

"Yes. Are you usually on these caravans?" I asked him. Wondering when I would see him again.

"No, but we were a bit short handed so I had to make up the numbers. I'm usually stationed in Redcliffe Castle." He clarified.

"I see. So it'll be a while before we meet again."

"Aye, I'll try to make a trip to Denerim in the future, to see how you got along. Have you thought of the fact that the Warden-Commander might not be in Denerim? He's a busy man, I'm sure. Do you have a place to stay?"

_Damn, I hadn't thought of that. _"No. I hadn't planned for that eventuality."

He seemed smug. "Well, we did. Marn spoke with the seneschal here and they've agreed that you may remain in the barracks and take your meals from the mess until such a time as you either get taken on by the Wardens, or get rejected and join us in Redcliffe."

_Thank God… or rather, the Maker, I should try to say, for having sent that caravan from Redcliffe to Lothering. My situation has rather improved since having met them._

"Thank you, that's a relief… but I have to ask… why?"

He clapped a hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eye while saying:

"Because you're a good man, and there are few enough in this world as it is. And I count you as a friend."

"As I do you. "

"Well, I must get back to work. Farewell for now."

"Farewell." I replied. I clasped his arm, as I had discovered was the norm here instead of the handshake that I was used to.

* * *

I walked through the streets of Denerim, taking in all the different sights, sounds and smells. Even though I'd only see a small part of Denerim I could tell that, as with Lothering, it was much bigger than the developers at Bioware had the means to show. Once out of the obviously poorer districts many of the building had two or three stories, with some as many as five stories high. Pretty significant, I thought, considering the limited construction methods available to a medieval society.

_It's a pretty diverse mix of time periods here, _I mused._ The wide use of plate armour would suggest the thirteenth or fourteenth century, the Qunari's use of cannons and blackpowder would be seventeenth century-ish and the use of magic stunts development in areas like medicine, after all, why bother searching for methods to cure people when a mage like Wynne could just snap her fingers and cure someone? _

I followed the street I had been walking along until it divulged into a large square set with numerous stalls and shops. The Market District, it would seem, was much bigger than the tiny one featured in-game. The sound of clanging metal turned my attention to a large three storied building with an outside smithy that had numerous men working in it, hammers rising and falling to create a crashing symphony interspersed with the subtle scratching sounds of plate being engraved. The sign reading _Wade's Emporium _was largely unnecessary. Judging by the small army of blacksmiths it seemed that Heron had a larger influence over Wade than that seen in the game. It made sense that Wade would have underlings to craft more mundane armour while he worked on his specially commissioned masterpieces. While I longed to go into the shop… or rather armoury, as that's probably was it was more like in there, I didn't want to waste time in there, come out, and then discover that Duncan had just left on a three month long expedition to the Deep Roads. Urging myself to ignore further distractions, I turned away from the _Emporium _and set my mind to finding the Warden Compound attached to the palace that was mentioned by Alistair.

I asked a guard for directions to the palace. He looked at me dubiously, obviously wondering what business I had there but dutifully gave me directions anyway.

On my way to the palace the buildings became larger and more sumptuous and the clothing of the people I crossed in the street changed from practical work clothes of leather and linen to embroidered doublets and skirts of velvet and silk.

After a somewhat lengthy walk I came to the inner wall surrounding the palace.

The guards at the gate leading into the palace grounds seemed more professional than the ones I had seen earlier about the city. They certainly looked more impressive. These royal guards wore suits of plate armour inlaid with silver and engraved with the crest of Ferelden's mabaris over mail armour. They held spears and shields with swords and daggers sheathed at their belts. They even had a loop on their belts from which swung small one handed war hammers. The other guards I had seen in Denerim wore mail hauberks and chausses and were armed the same with the exception of the war hammer.

With some trepidation I approached the gates, wondering how I would weasel myself into the palace to get into the Warden Compound.

"Greetings, Ser." I said to the guard nearest me, peering into the closed visor. "Is Commander Duncan in residence today?"

The guard was silent for a few moments. The visor tilted up and down, presumably examining me. It was disconcerting having someone watching you and not being able to see their face.

A woman's voice issued from the helm. _Ah yes, that's right. In Ferelden it matters little whether one is a man or a woman; both are rightly considered equal. That's rather refreshing, and certainly not the idea people had in my timelines medieval ages. _

"What business have _you_ with the Wardens?"

_Oh, so it's going to be like that, is it? _An idea popped into my head. _Oh, this is going to be fun. I hope this actually works though. _

Switching from the British or Ferelden accent that I had been speaking in courtesy to my father, I started speaking with an Orlesian one.

"What business have _I _with the Wardens?" I sneered, giving her the most haughtily condescending look I could muster, playing on what Fereldens likely stereotyped Orlesians as.

I continued, putting on an increasing air of outrage and anger:

"What business have _you_ in impending a Warden from the Warden Commander of Orlais bearing a missive for the Commander of the Grey in Ferelden!" I said pulling the letter I had found in the bag on the highway outside Lothering with a flourish from a pouch I had attached to my belt, brandishing it before her helm in wide sweeping arcs.

The guard flipped her visor up, shooting a pleading look for assistance to her fellow guards who were observing her deal with the angry Orlesian Warden with bemused looks on their faces.

She opened her mouth and started to say haltingly: "I'm sorry, bu..."

I didn't give her a chance to finish.

"Let me past now, before I _Conscript_ you on the spot! You have already delayed me enough!"

That certainly made up her mind, and, with a panicky look about her she rushed me through the gate, apologising profusely.

"Your King will hear of this… this incompetence! Were this Orlais you would be hanged!"

She gave me hasty directions to the Compound before fleeing back to her post at the gate. I managed to turn around a corner of the palace, no longer in view of the gate before I could no longer restrain myself and burst into laughter. _That was priceless! The look on her face! I am definitely playing the angry Orlesian Warden card again._

After a few moments I composed myself and followed the directions I had been given by the royal guard. Two grey banners with a white rampant griffon lined with azure denoted it. It was somewhat smaller than the rest of the palace, standing at only four stories tall, but it was an impressive nonetheless and looked like it could easily house double the number of Wardens currently in Ferelden. It was no Soldier's Keep, but it was a sure mark that an organisation had the crowns approval when they had their headquarters connected to the royal palace.

There weren't any guards posted outside the Compound and I couldn't see anyone in sight apart from pages and servants clad in finery rushing to and fro on their errands so I just walked up the few steps leading to the Compound and knocked loudly on the stout two and a half meter tall wooden iron studded doors. I waited, fiddling nervously with the links of mail poking out of the end of the vambrace on my left arm with my leather clad hand.

I was about to knock again when I heard shouting and then a muttered "Where are the damned servants when you need them…" before a board in the door slid to the side and the scarred face of a man with an untrimmed hedge for a beard appeared in the hole, looking at me expectantly.

"Yes? You knocked? Do you have a message to deliver?" he spat out somewhat impatiently.

"You're a Warden?" I hazarded.

He gave me a look as if to say 'Well I'm in here aren't I?' but merely nodded.

I drew myself up, preparing to change my life forever and said with all the confidence I could muster:

"I'm here to volunteer to become a Warden." There. I said it.

He started in surprise, eyes widening.

"You'd best come in then."

I was as surprised as him. _What just happened? It can't be that easy. _

But the Warden eagerly beckoning me into the Compound belied that belief. I stepped over the threshold, expecting the Warden to turn around any instant and say 'Oh, you said you wanted to be a Warden. I thought you said you had a delivery of Antivan chocolate for the Commander'.

But that didn't happen. What did happen was that he led me down a corridor until we emerged into a large, high ceilinged room set with long tables and high backed chairs. The mess hall, it would seem. Six Wardens were sat close together on one of the tables having the midday meal. They all turned to look at me with interest as my unnamed guide led me across the room and down an adjoining corridor. I followed him up two flights of stairs. We went down another corridor, this one set with tapestries of battles one the walls until we came to a lovingly carved door. He knocked once, waited until he was invited in, and entered. I followed.

The room was rather large. It was furnished with various bookcases, shelves, cupboards and the occasional weapon and armour racks. Placed in a corner of the room was a large desk littered with parchment and letters. Behind it sat a man dark skinned man with black hair greying at the temples and a full beard of the same colour. He had dark brown, almost black eyes and a serious expression on his face. He looked to be in his mid-forties, although it was hard to tell.

Duncan looked up from his desk, about to say something, saw me and said nothing. He lifted an eyebrow enquiringly at the Warden accompanying me while standing up from his desk politely.

"Well, Gregor, would you like to introduce me to our guest?"

_Gregor… Alistair mentions that this guy is a beast at drinking... _

Gregor jumped in cheerily:

"Ah yes, this is… uh…" He turned to me.

"Morcar." I supplied.

"This is Morcar, who has _volunteered _to Join us." Duncan's eyebrow rised higher still.

I picked up the emphasis on 'Join' more than either of them probably expected. _From the reactions I've been getting from the Wardens I'm beginning to understand why Duncan only had two dozen of them. The Dryden incident wouldn't have endeared Wardens to anyone who knew about it and the combination of the Wardens being out of Ferelden for two hundred years and it having been four hundred since the last Blight when the previous ones all had two hundred year intervals would have convinced most of the nobility that a fifth Blight wouldn't be forthcoming. That many of the Wardens now in Ferelden originated from Orlais wouldn't make a person want to support them either, especially for fear of antagonising Loghain, who despises all things Orlesian. _

Duncan nodded at Gregor. Gregor turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Duncan motioned me to a chair placed in front of the desk.

I sat down apprehensively.

"My name is Duncan." He introduced himself, "I command the Grey Wardens in Ferelden."

"Commander, it's an honour to be here. Although…" _Might as well be honest._ " I didn't expect it to be quite this easy."

He seemed confused.

"What do you mean, easy?"

I elaborated, partly-lying. "I grew up on tales of the heroic Grey Wardens, the best of the best, standing vigilant to protect us from the darkspawn, nigh on undefeatable on the battlefield."

I paused for breath, my words previously having come out in a hurried torrent.

"I didn't expect you all to be holier than Andraste, I'm not naïve enough for that. But still. To just allow in any young man like me who comes knocking?"

Duncan nodded. "Ah. I understand now. Are you aware how many Wardens I have here in Ferelden?"

Not wanting to show too much knowledge just yet and not actually sure how many Wardens there were two years before Ostagar, I replied with: "Not enough, that's why I'm here."

"Twenty two. Twenty two Wardens. My comrades in Orlais, by comparison, numbered three hundred at the last count." He said, the frustration clear upon his face.

He remained sitting in silence for a few seconds, staring at his hands, before looking up at me and declaring:

"In the eighteen years I've been Warden-Commander only three Ferelden's have come forward and volunteered to Join our Order. You're the fourth. The last volunteer was six years ago."

"Damn…"

The corner of his lips twitched.

"Indeed. As I'm sure you understand I am not in the business of rejecting recruits when they come to me so willingly. I must warn you though, once you set down this path there is no turning back.

I nodded confidently at him and answered without hesitation.

"I know. I'm ready to do my part for Ferelden and the Wardens."

He nodded approvingly at me. "Very well, then. From this moment on you are a Grey Warden Recruit, under my authority and above that of all others."

I nodded solemnly.

He smiled slightly, seeming pleased to have gained a new Warden "Well then, now that that's taken care of I hope you know how to use that sword."

"Yes," I said, "although not to the standard I fear would be expected from a Warden, but I have experience, and all I need is more training."

"Anything else I should know?"

I thought for a moment.

"I speak Orlesian fluently, although I don't know how useful that will be to you. Oh… and…erm… some guards may come to the Compound asking about an Orlesian Warden bearing important news for you from Orlais."

He harrumphed and gave me a look.

"What? I had to get into the palace somehow. You should be congratulating me on my ingenuity; were it not for it you wouldn't have an extra Warden." I said in mock admonition.

He sighed in exasperation, muttering something. I caught the words "Maker's sense of irony."

He stood.

"Despite your unorthodox methods in reaching the Compound, I am indeed grateful to our small number being bolstered further. Have you had lunch?"

I shook my head.

"Then you shall eat. It'll be a good opportunity to introduce you to the others. You've come at an opportune time, all of us are currently in Denerim and Wardens are loath to miss a meal, so all should be in the mess."

* * *

The mess hall's previous raucous hubbub of talking changed to respectful silence when Duncan walked in. Interspersed among the five long tables each with upwards of twenty places was twenty two Wardens. Humans, elves and dwarves were all represented, although most were human. On the way to the hall Duncan had told me that thirteen Wardens were human, five dwarven and the remaining four were elven; three city elves and one Dalish elf. My entrance was greeted with curious whispering.

Duncan raised a hand and it died down.

"This is Morcar. He has volunteered to join our Order." On the outside I stood confidently. On the inside I was squirming uncomfortably.

Duncan's announcement was greeted with smiles.

"Now, I won't go on any further, I'm sure you wouldn't want me to delay our meal." His tone of voice implied that this was an oft repeated sentence.

Groans rang out, further substantiating my belief that this was an old joke that the Wardens were used to. I smiled.

Duncan went to sit down with a group of older Wardens, presumably his Senior Wardens.

I looked around. Gregor caught my eye and beckoned me over to a table with three other humans, a male dwarf and a female Dalish elf. One of the humans was a woman.

I sat down at the table, noticing that it was piled high with food. _ So this is like a self-service buffet, huh? Suits me. _

Gregor clapped me on the back with one of his paws.

"How do you feel joining the order, lad?" he asked grinning.

"Like a home away from home." I replied jovially, infected by his enthusiasm.

"Oh! That looks fresh." The human woman sitting across from me said eyeing my now exposed still healing wound. On the way to the mess hall Duncan had shown me a room I would be sharing with another warden, where I had proceeded to leave my armour and pack. I had left the sword belt on the bed and starting walking out of the room before an uncomfortable feeling of being vulnerable had drawn me to remove the scabbarded sword from the belt and put the belt on with the dagger on it. _That feels much better. It seems my trip from Lothering has already changed me._

"It is, happened four days ago." I answered the mid-twenties looking woman, who had light brown –almost blonde- hair and green eyes.

Gregor listened with interest.

"Regale us with your tale then, lad." He said, leaning forwards.

Looking mournfully at the food, I resigned myself to having to leave it till later. So I did as Gregor suggested and regaled them with my tale.

* * *

**A/N: I initially thought that Duncan's limited number of Grey Wardens was mainly due to his incompetence, but after some thought on the matter I decided that more important factors most likely contributed. That said, that still doesn't excuse his other short comings, a prime example being the squandered Soldier's Peak. I'm not trying to bash the guy: I like him. But we're all human and we all have our shortcomings.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Here's a Christmas present from me to all my readers! This chapter's about a half longer than all the others have been so I hope you guys appreciate the extra effort I put into this one. Reviews are sorely desired; they are my life-blood, my energy, my mana. ****The more I have, the more chapters you have. If you have any questions don't hesitate to ask in a review and I'll answer in the next chapter's A/N.**

** I'm uploading this at three o'clock in the morning so if there are any typos please excuse me; I'm going to triple check this chapter tomorrow when I'm more cognizant. **

**I'd like to thank NIX'S WARDEN, DoorbellSpider and Delfin Jonte for their reviews! **

* * *

Chapter 4

**Two months later.**

I darted back and through the eye slits of the visor on my helm I saw the greatsword swish past, going through the space my head had previously occupied.

_The sword's blunt but he's not exactly going easy on me. That's fine though, I can reciprocate. _

Rushing forwards before he could heft the chunk of steel that he called a sword back at me I feigned left, right and then struck for his armoured left leg, twisting my hips to put as much force behind the blow as I could. My practice sword hit my intended target: behind the knee. His leg buckled and he fell forwards, landing heavily with his greatsword trapped lengthwise beneath him. Quick to react, he went up onto his hands to push himself up. Before he could I jumped onto him, pinning him down with my weight. I yanked up his head, exposing his neck and placed my blunt sword to it.

"You're getting a little slow, old man." I taunted jokingly.

Francis, the Senior Warden to whom Duncan had entrusted my training, grunted.

"You would have been better served to just cut me down instead of jumping on me."

I felt something prod me in the leg.

Francis was clutching his practice dagger poised to thrust down directly over a small gap in my armour in my thigh. A gap located directed over my femoral artery. I sighed. Francis could have cut it as soon as I was on him. I might still have been able to 'kill' him, but once cut I would have been unconscious from blood loss in thirty seconds, and dead within three minutes…and we both knew it.

_Damn, I thought I'd finally managed to best him. _

I stood up and he rolled over. I offered him a hand; he accepted it and I pulled him up.

Duncan had introduced me to Francis the day after I had been accepted to join the order; Francis had been one of the men I saw eating with Duncan in the mess hall.

He was around the same age as Duncan, clean shaven, with stormy grey eyes and curly jet black hair. He had about the same height and build as me.

"You've improved, Morcar." He told me, "I grant that you'd have a fair chance at defeating most swordsmen you came across but you must desist from this habit of yours of offering mercy to your opponents. While your hearts in the right place, and I've taught you to only draw your sword when all else fails, once you become embroiled in a fight you must be ruthless and offer no quarter to your enemies, for you will receive none, especially not from darkspawn. Take care that you do not revel in slaughter, though."

An elf scurried across the practice yard, stopping once she was four paces away from us.

She bowed to both of us and addressed Francis.

"Senior Warden, Commander Duncan requests Warden Recruit Morcar's presence in his study."

"Thank you, Antalya."

A bow and she was off.

"You heard her, Morcar." Francis said, picking up our discarded weapons and placing them back in the racks.

I nodded and made the short walk to the Compound from the large practice yard located between the rear of the Compound and the palace wall. Guards on the wall sometimes stopped to watch us when we practiced. I entered the Compound still wearing my sweaty clothes and the battered plate armour used to practice in the yard, though I had taken off the helm.

I saw Jacquelyn, the Warden who had sat across from me when I arrived and noticed my wound. She was Orlesian, a fierce-sparring partner (she favoured the axe) and a kind woman. All of the Wardens had been amiable, although some of the elves were a bit distant, and when I told the Wardens that I was half-Orlesian they warmed up to me even more. Understandable, seeing as most of the humans and elves were from Orlais. It was nice to have conversations in Orlesian with them. It reminded me of home.

Jacquelyn pinched her nose as I walked past, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Duncan summoned me from the yard…" I said feebly.

She smirked at me, but said nothing in reply, returning her gaze to the scroll she had been reading.

I made my way to Duncan's study, going up the stairs and down the corridor before knocking on his door.

"Come in, Morcar."

Duncan was standing by a wall looking at a map of Ferelden. I moved next to him.

He wrinkled his nose. _Do I really smell that bad?_

"Thank you for coming promptly. The king has informed me that he has received news from Dragon's Peak; Bann Sighard discovered an entrance to the Deep Roads. The king has asked me to investigate the entrance and secure it until dwarves can be called upon to permanently seal the entrance. You will be coming with me along with Jacquelyn, Gregor, Hathak, Rordok and Irith. We'll collect what we need for your Joining there. "

I'd know it would have to happen eventually, but the word sent a shiver down my spine nonetheless. The Joining. All this could have been for nothing. I either lived through it or I died. There was no turning back.

* * *

I enjoyed the two day ride to Dragon's Peak. Denerim was a large city, at least by medieval standards, and while I enjoyed talking to the Wardens and sparring with them it was nice to have a change of pace after having been there for two months.

I clenched my hand into a fist, admiring the way the articulated plates on my gauntlet moved fluidly without impeding my movement.

I cast my mind back to how I acquired the armour. About a week after I had arrived Duncan told me that Cailan had heard of a new Grey Warden and wanted to meet me. I had been in the yard at the time, sparring with Jacquelyn, and I thought that Duncan meant that I would be summoned to appear before Cailan in the palace, so I thought nothing of it for now and went back to sparring against Jacquelyn's axe. Before even five minutes had passed though, Jacquelyn suddenly stopped and stepped back.

_"What is it?" I said._

_She mimed to look behind me, "The King."_

_Cailan was coming down the steps from the Compound, accompanied by Duncan. He was dressed in a crimson doublet and hose embroidered with gold lace. He seemed to be in a cheery mood. Unsurprisingly, never having met a king in my previous life I was unsure how to react._

_Should I bow? Kneel? Do that weird arms crossed across the chest salute thing? Better take my cue from Jacquelyn. _

_When the King was ten paces away she bowed low. I did the same._

_The King nodded politely to Jacquelyn and then turned his beaming smile to me._

_"Your Majesty, "I said, "It's an honour to meet you."_

_"No, no, the honour's all mine. The other Wardens tell me you're a promising recruit. I was heartened when word reached me that you had volunteered. Now, tell me..."_

_He paused, examining the dented and scuffed practice armour._

_"Maker! You can't wear that fighting the darkspawn! I'll have Wade make you something. I'd stay longer, but I only just managed to avoid Loghain as it is."_

_And, just like that he was off. He was true to his word. I received a note the next day asking for my presence at Wade's Emporium so that my measurements could be taken for the armour. I'd gone, endured being fussed over by Wade while Heron scowled at me and four days before my departure from Denerim to the Deep Roads the armour had been delivered to the Compound. It was beautiful. It had probably been expensive, too, so I was grateful for the King's love of Grey Wardens. Wade had made me a complete set of silverite plate armour. It wasn't like the massive sets seen in the game, with tall jutting pieces of armour that looked like they belonged on a tank. This armour was sleek, the various curves and ridges streamlined so that any blows that fell upon it would be deflected away from the wearer. I was protected from my hands to my shoulders by the gauntlets, vambraces, cowters, rerebraces and pauldrons. A chest and back plate protected my vital organs, with faulds and cuisses covering my hips and thighs. My feet, legs and knees were plated in sabatons, greaves and poleyns. My throat was protected by a gorget and then finally came the helm. The helm was the winged Warden barbute that could be found in the game, except this one had a visor, so that the helm could be closed leaving only a thin long slit for the eyes and a few small holes where the mouth would be to allow more air in. Parts of the armour had been decorated with designs of elegant swirling lines and on the front of the chestplate and brow of the helm were boldly stamped rearing griffons. Under the armour went an arming doublet and arming pants. They served the same use as the gambeson I had used before but the jacket had mail sleeves to protect my armpits and the inside of my elbows, these areas being unprotected by plate armour. The pants, when worn, covered my legs in silverite mail from the waist to half way down my calves. This protected the back of my legs, most of which was unprotected by plate._

I was tremendously pleased with my new armour and once Francis had helped me put all the pieces on and instructed me how to do up all the buckles I strutted through the Compound, receiving admiring glances and scoffs in equal measure from my fellow Wardens.

Being made of silverite, the armour was at least a third lighter than steel. The even distribution of the weight armour across my body and the fact that it had been tailored to my specific measurements meant that it was easy to carry; it couldn't have weighed more than twenty kilos anyway.

* * *

Bann Sighard had been relieved to have the Deep Roads entrance looked into so promptly and he hosted a feast in the Wardens honour. In the morning we were directed to the entrance by one of the soldiers who had been in the patrol that discovered it and once we arrived there he was dismissed.

I looked down at the five meter wide hole in the ground that was located in the middle of a field. The freshly torn soil was evidence enough that part of the ceiling of the Deep Road beneath had collapsed. Peering into the hole I could see the torch we had dropped in far below. It looked like it was a little over ten meters to the bottom. Hathak saw me looking down.

"Have you decided to finally grace us with your presence?" the dwarf shouted up.

"I thought it wouldn't do to deprive you for much longer!" I called down graciously.

To get down into the Deep Road bellow we had tied a rope we had taken with us for the purpose around a nearby tree and the others had then climbed down. It was now my turn.

_Ok, time to go. I can do this._

I lowered my legs into the hole and grasped the rope tightly. I hadn't seen what technique the others had used to climb down so I thought I would use one that I knew worked. Gripping the rope with the sides of my feet I loosened my hold on it with my hands and I fast-roped down to the ground below. I was thankful for the thick leather of my gauntlets on the palms of my hands; otherwise I would have felt more than just the heat from the friction.

The torch petered out. "Irith, if you would." Duncan said.

Suddenly light emanated in a twenty meter radius, originating from the Dalish mage.

"Ah, that's better." She said.

The path behind us had been blocked by the fallen masonry and earth from the hole. It was warm down here with a noticeable current of air travelling down the tunnel. _It seems the air duct system in this portion of the Deep Roads isn't blocked._

We travelled down the Road for four hours, stopping occasionally for breaks, Duncan telling me of how we Warden's patrolled the Deep Roads regularly to probe the Darkspawn to test their strength and ascertain whether a Blight was imminent.

"We could have performed the Joining ritual in Denerim; we have what we need safely kept in a warded vault in the Compound. However, it's tradition for new recruits to gather the blood themselves. ", he explained.

Eventually we came to a part of the tunnel which narrowed until it was only three meters across. Heavy broken doors hung from twisted hinges. A tunnel led off to a corridor which had bedrooms, a kitchen, a toilet and everything else one would need to recuperate whilst resting after a day's march in the Roads. Although knowing when to end a march was difficult when there was no sunlight.

"This is a way station. We can block access from the rest of the Deep Roads to the entrance to the surface here." Rordok said, examining one of three sets of doors. "This one seems intact enough to be closable. Once it's closed we'll have enough time to come back and see about blocking this more permanently. You'd best arm yourself, Morcar. Darkspawn approach." He said, turning his attention away from the doors to look off into the darkness ahead.

I looked at the others. They all had their weapons in hand, having already sensed our enemy.

I drew my blade, a veridium longsword stamped with the Wardens seal on the pommel that Duncan had given me to replace my old steel one. I hefted the red steel reinforced ironbark shield, holding it ready to block a strike. Duncan had wanted to give me a new shield, but after examining mine he declared it superior and asked to borrow it. A few days later he gave it back to me. A griffon had been lovingly painted onto it. He said it had been done by one of the elven servants who was good at such things.

I tapped out a beat with my boot nervously on the stone floor, apprehensive of imminently facing darkspawn. Fighting them in the game was all very good and well but this was real life. I wouldn't be watching some pixels on a screen fight other pixels on the screen. _I _was going to be fighting tainted monsters who could rip your throat out and whose blood would turn you into a ghoul.

"You'll do fine. We've all felt as you do now when it was our first time." Jacquelyn whispered encouragingly, nudging me.

I shot her a grateful look.

I opened my mouth to reply. A shrill shriek pierced the darkness. My mouth snapped shut. Ragged footsteps pounded towards us. I stood at the front of our formation, Jacquelyn covering my left with her shield and Gregor on my right with his. Hathak stood ready with his warhammer three paces behind us with Duncan. Rordok and Irith were at the back, Irith with her staff and Rordok with his crossbow.

Irish thrust out her staff and light shot down the tunnel ahead of us. Thirty darkspawn were revealed. A roaring ball of fire and a quarrel followed. I cringed on the inside. The darkspawn were horrifyingly revolting. Jagged rotten canines jutted out of their teeth, freezing their faces in a horrid grinning rictus of pain.

The fireball exploded on impact, blowing three tightly packed genlocks to smithereens. The quarrel pierced a hurlock's forehead and then went flying out the other side. Grey putrid flecks of brain-matter and shards of skull followed it. The hurlock crashed to the ground.

Two more fireballs killed two hurlocks and a genlock. Another quarrel sped past, taking a hurlock in the eye.

By this point they were almost upon us. I could smell them. I could smell their vile grey mottled rotting flesh.

Irith and Rordok killed another darkspawn apiece. That left twenty. I stepped forwards and lifted my shield to the incoming blow. I grimaced behind my visor at the foul stench emanating from the hurlock's gaping maw, which was half a meter from my face. Its sword impacted my shield and slid downwards. I stepped in even closer, jabbing a corner of my shield into its shoulder. While darkspawn minds may no longer have been human, parts of their bodies still were and they reacted to outside stimuli just as a normal human's body would. My jab was aimed at a nerve in the shoulder. The hurlock's hand spasmed and the sword fell out. I punched my sword into its gut, seeing it erupt out of the hurlock's back. I twisted my sword to free it of the suction from the hurlocks body and to enlarge the wound. I pulled my sword out of its body, watching in faraway interest behind a wall of adrenaline as black blood sprayed onto my hand. The hurlocks face came crashing into my helm, jaws snapping madly for my neck. I stumbled back, almost falling on to my back. I recovered and kicked it away. I cocked my arm back; muscles coiled and ready to explode. As it ran at me again I twisted my body and in one explosive smooth motion my sword went sailing through its neck, decapitating it. Before I could arrest the momentum of my sword, for fear of striking one of my companions behind me, an impact jarred up my sword arm and saw that I had severed in half the arm of another hurlock who had been raising it to parry a blow from Jacquelyn. Unprotected, Jacquelyn's axe took the hurlock in the face. Her helmeted head nodded a brief thanks in my direction and went back to the fight.

From the beginning to end of my engagement eleven darkspawn had fallen to the seven of us. Nine left. An angry looking genlock screeched at me and charged. A quarrel thudded into its chest, burying itself to the fletching. The genlock was thrown onto its back. The point of my shield thudded down, hitting it in the throat with a wet crunch. I looked about the hallway of the way station. Two darkspawn were still standing. One was a big hurlock, almost eight foot tall, with a horned helmet and thick plate armour adorned with numerous spikes. The other was wielding a staff. _Great, an emissary and an alpha. _

The emissary had a magic shield up, deflecting any quarrels that Rordok shot at it.

Hathak charged at it, and almost reached it, before he was suddenly sent flying back and skidding across the stone floor by a thrust of the genlock's hands towards him. Gregor and Duncan were keeping the alpha occupied, striking in turn so as to keep it on the defensive. Jacquelyn and I ran at the genlock, her from in front and me from behind. The genlock was distracted by Jacquelyn. My sword took it between the shoulder blades. I pulled my sword out and looked to see how Duncan and Gregor were faring.

The alpha was on its knees, two quarrels sprouting from its right shoulder and parts of it were charred from having been impacted by small, precisely guided fireballs from Irith. Duncan thrust his sword into its belly and it fell to the ground. Thirty darkspawn had met their fate at the hands of seven Wardens. The worst injury was a broken wrist which Hathak had received from landing badly when the emissary threw him. I flipped my visor up, wanting to be free of the stifling feeling it provided.

"Morcar, duck!"

I was slow to react, a little lethargic after the adrenaline coursing through my veins had run its course. Despite the shouted warning my first act was to turn around, searching for danger. I saw it. The alpha, tough arsehole that it was, had propped itself up so that it was on its hands and knees. Its right arm was cocked back, its greatsword held in its hand as if it was a spear. It launched it at me, mustering all the strength in its broken body for one last act of defiance before it fell dead to the floor.

Fear and panic burst into me. I threw myself back, willing my body with every fibber of my being to fall to the ground faster. I could see the sword flying like an arrow straight towards me. I was both lucky and unlucky. It flew across my face, cutting a furrow halfway up my cheek and missing my eye, instead carrying on to cut into my eyebrow and carry on up my head for two centimetres before I had fallen enough that I was out of its way. I slammed into the ground, the hard landing knocking the air out of me. I lay there, like a fish out of water gasping and gulping for air that would not appear. Jacquelyn face appeared above me, looking down at me with concern written across her face. Irith came next.

"Are you well? Have you any other injuries?" she asked, poking and probing at my face. By this point blood had flown into my eyes from the profusely bleeding head wound, blinding me.

I tried for words, but they wouldn't come out, so I just gestured at my throat instead.

"Ah. I understand." She said, realization coming across her face.

She waved her hand above my chest and precious oxygen flooded back into my lungs.

"Thanks. This stings like a bitch but I'm fine apart from that." I gasped out.

She nodded sympathetically. The others, who had gathered around me by now, seemed relieved.

"Stay still. I will do all I can." I did as she commanded and she placed her hands to either side of my face, closing her eyes in concentration. A warm feeling swelled up in my face until it became a burning sensation and I struggled not to writhe under Irith's ministrations. After a minute or so she released my face and the heat died down.

"There.", she said, releasing her breath, "I have closed the wound. I have healed most of the layers of skin and the scarring should be more limited than it would have been otherwise, but my abilities are not limitless, it will be noticeable. The skin will be tender for a few days and you will have to take care not to stretch the skin of your face until it is completely healed. Do you understand?"

I nodded my acquiescence, simply grateful that the sword had not had a lower trajectory and skewered me through the chin and gone up into my brain. I shuddered. _That was too close._

Gregor pulled me up and slammed me on the back.

"Ha! You're a lucky one! Too stubborn by half though. Next time, just duck." He said admonishingly.

"Gregor is correct. That was the largest hurlock that I have seen in my years as a Warden, you are fortunate to have come across the better from such an encounter. Learn from this experience and move on, it will make you stronger." Duncan advised.

"Aye! And the ladies always love a man with a scar." He said, nudging me in the ribs and winking at me.

I grinned, heartened.

Hathak guffawed. Rordok smiled slightly, as did Duncan. Irith rolled her eyes, slapping Gregor's arm.

Jacquelyn raised an eyebrow at me. I wiped the smile from my face and assumed a solemn expression, cocking my head to the side.

"What do you think? Does it look good from this angle?" I asked her.

Her lip twitched. "Just get the blood."

_What a way to kill the mood._

I took the wineskin from my belt and gulped down a mouthful of water. I offered it to Jacquelyn. She accepted it and I knelt down next to a dead hurlock. I uncorked the vial Duncan had given me and held it under a slowly dripping wound on its arm, stoppering it once it was full.

* * *

Irith incinerated the bodies after we had looted anything of value and then Hathak and Rordok sealed the door that was still operable. Once that was done Duncan, Jacquelyn and Irith went off to a closed room to prepare the Joining. Gregor, Rordok, Hathak and I stayed in a room set with low stone chair. We talked. We talked about Paragons, of Loghain's obsessive hatred of Orlesians and Gregor instructed me further in the lore of the Order that I would soon be attempting to join.

Gregor told me of the Fourth Blight; of how Tevinter and Orlais were affected little and so had refused to send aid to Antiva, Rivain and the Free Marches who were beset by the Darkspawn. He told me how ultimately, as it had been every other time before; a Warden, Garahel in this case, had gathered an army to face the main horde and defeated the archdemon.

He looked me dead in the eye, "Once you truly become one of us, remember this: You are a Grey Warden. Our sole duty is to safeguard Thedas from the darkspawn. We are not Ferelden, Orlesian or Antivan; we are Wardens. In War, Victory. In Peace, Vigilance. In Death, Sacrifice."

Hathak and Rordok listened in gravely, nodding at Gregor's words.

His words resounded deep inside me, each one carrying weight and strengthening my resolve. I had been ejected from my own world, but I would do all I could to protect this one.

"I'll remember." I promised him, clasping his arm.

"It is time." Duncan's voiced emanated emotionlessly from the corner of the room.

He led me to the room set aside for the ritual and I entered.

Duncan spoke softly, articulating each word carefully, keeping eye contact with me while he spoke:

"At last, after having been with us for two months we come to the Joining. As you know, the Grey Wardens were founded during the First Blight, when we stood upon the precipice of annihilation. So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood and mastered their taint."

He held the Joining chalice. "This is our source of power and victory. If you survive you will be immune to the taint, able to sense the darkspawn and, should the need arise, be able to slay an archdemon."

He nodded at Jacquelyn, "Only a few words are said prior to the Joining, but they have been said since our inception. Jacquelyn?"

From where she stood next to the wall she stepped forwards a few steps, until she was a pace away from me. She and Duncan inclined their heads. I did the same.

"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and one day we shall join you." She intoned.

A pause, and then:

"Morcar, step forward."

_This is it. _

Duncan held out the Joining chalice. I took it and lifted it to my lips. The dark liquid broiled, screaming of the taint. If I were sane, if I were normal, I would never have found myself here.

I drank. The foul concoction filled my mouth. I swallowed. Duncan took the chalice from me.

"From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden."

A stabbing sensation in my gut. It spread throughout my whole body. Molten fire seared through my veins. I was wracked with waves of excruciating agony, each one feeling like my head was being pulverised by a golem. My skin felt like it was liquefying. I saw black. Visions of legions of darkspawn flashed before my eyes, rank after rank of genlocks, hurlocks, sharlocks, ogres and broodmothers. Deep below where even the bravest dwarves had dared to delve an Old God sang to me. I collapsed to the ground.

* * *

Duncan held his breath, praying to the Maker that he had not misjudged Morcar, that the lad would live to join their ranks.

Morcar's mouth opened in a soundless scream and he fell. Duncan stood still. Jacquelyn's eyes were fixed on Morcar's chest. Duncan slowly stooped down and put his palm to Morcar's throat.

He waited; making sure.

He waited.

He was sure.

"He lives."

* * *

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed and don't forget to review! It's in your best interest!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hi! Sorry for the delay! Needless to say Christmas and New Year celebrations held me up a bit and a small dose of writer's block didn't help. On that note happy new year to all my readers! In my estimation there'll be at least two more chapters in which I need to have some things happen before we get to Ostagar, maybe three chapters. **

**I'd like to thank NIX'S WARDEN, Kor-Marwin, Defin Jonte, chippermovie, Apollo and my two guests for reviewing! **

**NIX = Morcar will be involved with Alistair's Conscription. **

**Apollo = To your first questions I have a few ideas lined up and I simply need to make my mind up on which one to choose. Secondly, Morcar will indeed try to save the Wardens. **

* * *

Chapter 5

**One year later.**

I toyed morosely with my bowl of stew, running the spoon through it; picking up bits of chicken and then letting them flop back down. Three weeks ago Kherek had left for his Calling. He had departed for Orzammar along with two of his dwarven brethren; Rordok and Heimdall. Jarin, a human and close friend of Kherek, also accompanied him. Taking into account the time it would have taken them to reach the Deep Roads… Kherek was dead. His Calling complete. It was a grim reminder of the fate that now awaited me, that is, if I didn't die before my Calling. I was unlikely to last that long considering the imminent Blight.

More of us would have gone to bid farewell to Kherek on his journey to the Deep Roads to join our forebears, but it simply wasn't possible. At least ten of us were usually away from the Compound at all times; patrolling the Deep Roads, searching for potential recruits, seeking funds from the various Arls and Banns. Apart from a few inconsequential Banns who still felt that Wardens were useful, the only noteworthy benefactor we had was Teyrn Cousland. Bryce Cousland endowed us with a generous fifty sovereigns every half year. Although for the second most powerful man in Ferelden fifty sovereigns was pocket change. Still, it was a nice supplement to the funds we received from Weisshaupt. Duncan also liked to have at least five Wardens stay at the Compound in case the occasion should arise that we were needed somewhere; though that didn't happen often.

As the Blight drew nearer and nearer I'd thought about trying to tell Duncan of it. Warning him so that Wardens from other countries could come to Ferelden. Duncan had told me that amidst the nightmares that plagued us each night it was recorded that Wardens had sometimes been conferred with prophetic visions. That had given me an idea. I'd gone to him a few weeks after my Joining. I told him I had a dream more vivid than any other I had ever had. That in it I saw a dragon large enough to eclipse the sun when in flight land on the top of Fort Drakon, belching purple fire.

_He stared at me, looking grave. He told me to tell him if I had the same dream again. He looked undecided for a moment and then admitted to me sadly: _

"_In my time as Warden-Commander I have sent numerous letters to Weisshaupt asking that more Wardens be sent to me, explaining the situation here. But they refuse to send any aid. They believe that were an Old God to be corrupted that Ferelden is too inconsequential a place for it to surface."_

_I started to argue, "But if…"_

_I was cut me off: "No. Were I to send a letter to the First Warden telling him that one of my Wardens had foreseen a Blight appearing in Ferelden he would dismiss it out of hand. If what you saw is to come to pass, we must look to ourselves. We will redouble our efforts in looking for recruits, but I fear that nothing will change. We have been gone from Ferelden for too long for people to appreciate the necessity of our Order. Most people believe that there will never be another Blight." _

A few months later I had returned to the Compound after a protracted two week long scouting expedition to the Deep Roads led by Francis with six other Wardens.

_When I entered the mess hall after having taken a bath I could sense from the mood that something had gone amiss. _

"_What's happened?" I asked Carac, the human Warden who I shared a room with and who had also been on the scouting trip to the Deep Roads._

"_Gregor and Irith have come back from Gwaren. It would seem that while they were there an elf from the Alienage was about to be strung up for the transgression of another elf. Gregor interceded and Conscripted the elf." He said grimacing._

"_What went wrong?" _

"_He didn't survive the Joining." _

Someone clearing their throat startled out of my thoughts. I looked up from my now-cold stew.

"Duncan."

He sat down next to me.

"You couldn't eat?"

"No… I was thinking about Kherek. And the elf."

He nodded soberly "He will be remembered. And Claneslyn's sacrifice is one that we all make sooner or later."

Silence for a few moments and then; "I'm sending you to the Circle."

"To Kinloch Hold? Why?" I asked, puzzled.

"We need more mages." he said, "You've seen how effective they are against the darkspawn. Carac and Irith are skilled mages, but there are only two of them. The First Enchanter and I are on good terms and he is amenable to our cause but he derives his authority from the Knight-Commander. The power lies in Greagoir's hands. Be firm and secure whatever aid or promises you can but try not to antagonize them. Don't use the Right. Although I believe that you think what you dreamt will come to pass, we cannot know for sure and I would not alienate us from the Chantry unless I was certain that there was no other option."

I didn't like it, but I agreed with his reasoning.

"Ok, got it. I'll try not to call down an Exalted March on us."

"I do not hold great hope that you will be successful in this venture but I have no choice but to keep trying." he uttered with a sigh.

* * *

After eleven days of riding along the North Road I found myself being rowed across Lake Calenhad to the Circle Tower. A tall spire rose out of the lake, blocks of stone blending seamlessly to give it the appearance of a monolith hewn from the earth itself. The ferryman, Kester, had been chatting away the entire time, excitedly telling me all the stories his 'pap' had told him of us.

"Can you really do that?"

"Do what?" I hadn't been listening. I'd been thinking of Jowan, Anders and… of Alistair. I had wondered whether it would be possible to get him to Join the Wardens early, seeing as he was so unhappy as a Templar. That vague thought had been quashed when I thought about the consequences Duncan had faced when he Conscripted Alistair. I didn't want to get in an altercation with Cailan and the Grand Cleric and risk Cailan not supporting me as he didn't know me as well as Duncan. Alistair would just have to wait until Duncan Conscripted him.

"Can you shoot lightning out of your eyes?" he asked eagerly.

"Wha- erm… of course! I can't personally but I've seen the older Wardens do so." I said drily. _Idiot. At least he appreciates us, though. _

He leant forward; encouraged that I was no longer ignoring him.

"And is it true you Wardens drink darkspawn blood as another would drink wine?"

"Of course not! Where did you hear such a thing?!" I spluttered, alarmed.

He seemed disappointed. "Oh. It's just somethin' my pap used to day.

"Well, I would appreciate it if you didn't spread false information regarding my Order. Such an action would have… unfortunate consequences for you."

His eyes widened in alarm. "I would never do that, Warden!"

I was spared from further conversation by the boat drawing up to the Tower's dock. I flipped him a silver coin as I stepped onto the jetty. I had just under ten sovereigns left of the original fifteen I had been gifted with by the bastard who had sent me here. I hadn't needed to buy much; food, accommodation, clothing and equipment being provided from Warden funds. A good thing too: I'm not sure how I would have payed for my daily meals. After the Joining I'd been plagued with nightmares each night and the unwelcome extra appetite. It made packing for journeys more troublesome as more provisions had to be taken. It was an offshoot of the tainted blood that coursed through my veins. The Joining did have some welcome effect. I'd noticed during practice that I didn't get out of breath so soon. I didn't sweat as much, I didn't tire so easily. It wasn't a massive change; I wasn't Captain America. But it was large enough that it was noticeable. And my being able to expend more energy meant I needed to take more in.

The whole sensing the darkspawn thing was weird. The first time I'd been to the Deep Roads after my Joining I'd been the last Warden to sense our foe. The others told me the longer one was a Warden the better one was at it. At first I hadn't know what it was. I'd felt distracted, like I was forgetting something important that needed to be said. Then the darkspawn had appeared. Once Francis had explained how it felt when I was next in the Deep Roads a few months later I knew what to expect. When it happened that time I had a sense of looming danger approaching from a specific direction. When I had seen the Darkspawn down one of the rare lit tunnels they had been fifty metres away; so I knew I could sense them from at least that far. On each successive trip to the Deep Roads I had gradually sensed the darkspawn from further and further away. A few weeks earlier on my latest trip to the Deep Roads I had been able to sense the darkspawn from roughly two hundred meters away. My senses had become clearer too, I could usually ascertain their number pretty accurately now. We Wardens could sense each other, too. Grey Wardens felt similar to the darkspawn, but different somehow. Not so tainted. The only way I could put it is that when I sensed Wardens they looked… well… grey, as opposed to the deep black of the darkspawn.

"Halt! What is your business here… ah… Warden?" The grumpy sounding templar barked at me from inside his helm as I approached the thick doors leading into the tower, his tone becoming a bit more mollified as he noticed the griffon on my chestplate.

"Hello to you too. Your Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter are expecting me.

"What for?" he asked suspiciously.

"Grey Warden business." I replied uncooperatively

He harrumphed and gestured for me to enter. _What a charming man. Let's hope Greagoir and Irving are more accommodating. _

A Knight-Captain greeted me politely as I entered and said he would take me to a meeting room. We went up the different flights of stairs, mages throwing me curious looks as we walked past. I was left in a large, well decorated room with paintings of templars and mages. A long table set with chairs ran the length of the room. I waited, flicking through a book written by Brother Genitivi. The now familiar sound of jingling mail and clanking plate armour could be heard drawing near. I put the book down. Greagoir and Irving entered. Greagoir looked like he was in his late fifties, Irving in his sixties. Both men had serious faces, although Irving's seemed accustomed to smiles and laughter.

"Knight-Commander. First-Enchanter. A pleasure to meet both of you, I'm Warden Morcar."

I clasped Greagoir's arm and shook Irving's hand.

After a few minutes of obligatory polite chit chat we got down to business.

"I assume Duncan told you in his letter why I'm here." I asked.

Greagoir and Irving glanced at each other, an undecipherable look passing between them.

"Yes… although I suspect we might have been able to guess at your purpose here without the letter." Irving said.

"Alright then, I'm here to look for potential recruits for the Wardens."

"And why would you need more? There hasn't been a Blight in four hundred years. And, I wasn't aware that a Blight was in progress at the moment. Why would you need more recruits? Irving has told me that your Order has had roughly the same number since Maric allowed your Order back into Ferelden." Greagoir challenged, his expression darkening.

_It couldn't be easy, could it? _I thought sardonically. _Of course, why would he be as cooperative as he is when you meet him in the game? He couldn't exactly dismiss the Wardens when he needed their help to regain the tower. I'm sure the Blight might have swayed his mind, too. _

"It is the Warden's prerogative to seek recruits. Our duty is to remain vigilant in peace so that when a Blight comes when are ready to face it. That requires that we always have a standing force of Wardens as large as possible. Mages are the most versatile fighter when it comes to fighting darkspawn. Their destructive magic makes them the equal of five warriors and their abilities to heal otherwise fatal injuries adds to their worth. Simply put, for an order as specialised as my own mages are indispensable."

Irving seemed undecided while Greagoir's face was set in resolute denial.

"That may be," he said "but I cannot release any of the mages into your care, and it is my duty to ensure that they are kept here for their own safety and that of others."

_Seriously?_

"Greagoir, surely one or two willing volunteers with experie…" Irving started, looking uncomfortable.

"No. That is my final word. Unless I receive a direct order from the Grand Cleric herself or the unthinkable happens and one of your damn Blights breaks out you will not get a single mage from the Ferelden Circle. I simply cannot risk it." He spat out resolutely.

_Maker… no wonder Duncan hasn't had any success here in the past. I'll just have to settle with wrangling whatever promises I can out of him._

I sighed grimly. "I see that no one words I might say will convince you, Knight-Commander. I _cannot_ however, leave empty handed. However unlikely it is, I must have a written and signed agreement from the both of you that should a Blight break out that the Circle of Magi and Templar Order will put themselves under the command of the Grey Wardens and will obey any orders until such a time as it would be defeated. I'm sure I need not remind you that this would simply be a renewal of an ancient treaty already in existence."

Greagoir looked uncertainly at Irving, seeking affirmation that what I said was true. Irving nodded.

"I have no objection." The mage declared.

"Under the Warden's command you say?" Greagoir didn't seem to like that bit.

"Yes, it is necessary. In a Blight we Wardens have the most experience and knowledge of how to vanquish the archdemon and confusion in the chain of command cannot be afforded."

"Your words ring true." He granted reluctantly.

* * *

And so parchment and an ink and quill were sent for and a treaty drawn up. In the event of a Blight it was written down, the mages and Templars of the Ferelden Circle would place all their resources at the disposal of the Wardens and would obey all their commands in the event of a Blight breaking out. Greagoir and Irving signed at the bottom and preservation spells were placed on the two documents. Both would travel with me back to Denerim so that Duncan could sign as Warden-Commander and then one copy would be sent back to the Circle.

That had been that and once Greagoir had gone glowering back to his duties Irving had smiled at me and asked if I wanted a tour of the tower.

_From the brief glimpses I've had of the dormitories there must be at least a hundred mages housed, or rather imprisoned, here. They would wreak havoc on the darkspawn._ _Templars would be useful against emissaries, too. _

A templar stalked by. _That reminds me… Alistair. Once he Joins I'll have to… oh… I've Joined before him so… I'll be Senior Warden after… no. I won't because I won't allow the others to die. I'll think more about this later… for now, Irving's talking to me._

"And this is my study. Yes, yes, do sit down."

* * *

After two days of touring the tower and meeting various important mages I was travelling along the North Road on my way back to Denerim. I'd met Wynne after having made my interest apparent in the Warden's need for good healers, and being the best the Circle had to offer I was duly sent off in her direction. After some questions on whether it would be possible to have her or an assistant swing by Denerim to further instruct our mages in the healing arts (she said maybe) she made mention of a mage who's proficiency at healing would only grow as his magic matured.

"Oh, could I meet this fellow?" I'd enquired.

"Unfortunately not… he is… well, to be frank, he has been sentenced to a year's solitary confinement for his sixth escape attempt." Wynne had admitted.

_Ah, Anders…_

I'd leaned in, acting the part of the eager Warden interested in recruiting an imprisoned talented mage, although knowing I couldn't.

"And might I ask his name?"

"Anders." She replied, scrutinising me.

"And don't you go getting any ideas, young man." She chastised me. "Don't do anything Duncan wouldn't do."

"Ah no… I won't." I promised, uncertain how to react to the mothering, or rather, grand-mothering. "You know Duncan?"

"Yes, he and I are old friends."

We had chatted for a few more minutes and then I'd been introduced to other various mages who had done noteworthy things or had valuable skills. No further mention was made of Anders. No one said anything about the mage origin or Alistair either. I wasn't sure whether templars were trained at the Circle or in Denerim… I would have guessed Denerim.

I fingered the small crystal vial hanging on a pendant around my neck. It was filled with a couple drops from my Joining ritual: a reminder of my duty.

I'd tried for a last ditch attempt at convincing Greagoir to let me have just one mage, but he didn't budge. I'd gone away partly satisfied with the treaty I had had Irving and Greagoir sign. It was an improvement on the last; which didn't place the mages and templars under the Wardens command. Duncan would like that. I'd also managed to coax out a few boxes of lyrium potions out of the 'mages' –read templars- supply for our own mages. Lyrium was expensive, so it would be a welcome gift for Duncan, who had asked me to try to get some.

Perhaps as an apology for his colleagues obstinacy Irving had given me a silver ring. He said it had been enchanted by the Tranquil to help negate the effects of harmful magic coming towards the wearer. I was rather pleased with it, remembering the various injuries that I had seen other Wardens suffer at the hands of the magical darkspawn. Luckily I had never been the target of one in the few instances in which they had been encountered. Duncan said that when not in a Blight the darkspawn tended to encroach more on the dwarves than on potential Deep Roads exits. There was the occasional sully by adventurous darkspawn which was usually put down by the local Bann's men if not by us, but mostly the darkspawn had no reason to be above ground and preferred to harass the dwarves.

* * *

On my return to the Compound I once again found myself sitting at a table in the mess hall toying morosely with a bowl of stew while thinking about the Blight. Waiting for Duncan to return from a meeting with Cailan. Waiting for events from the game to take place and dreading the moment when they would.

A hand clapped me on the back. Jacquelyn sat down next to me, her pretty face smiling at me.

_Well, things are looking up already._

* * *

**A/N: Next chapter we jump forwards to a little before a certain tourney that the Grand Cleric holds in Duncan's honour in which an unhappy templar grabs the esteemed Commander's attention...**

**Until next time and please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: Hello everyone. I cry your collective pardons at the inordinate amount of time that has passed between updates. The harsh reality is that my previous updates were done when I was on holiday and so I had all the time in the world to do whatever I wanted. Now that I'm back at school studying for my A2's must take priority above all else. **_

_**I'd also like some input from you guys as to whether this fic should remain T or be rated as M. I'm not sure whether my descriptions of combat have gone over the T boundary and into M and I don't plan on skimping on the details. War is hell. I'm not going to sugar coat it and tie a pink ribbon around it... so advice would be helpful. **_

_**If you guys and girls have any ideas that you would like me to implement feel free to drop me a line; I promise nothing though; this is my baby! Any tips on how I can improve my prose would also be gratefully received.**_

_**I'm going on the assumption that 'Ferelden' is the country and 'Fereldan' is the countryman as it is spelt a number of different ways from what I've seen. **_

_**By the way, I don't think this is necessary but I'll put this here anyway: **_

"_**Warden" – Bold Italics are usually A/N's.**_

"_Warden"- Italics are usually thoughts or flashbacks. _

"Warden"- Normal speech and description.

_**I'd like to thank Ryka Spar, Freizer, sweetlilsunshine, Reader000x151, Lethum, Musicalrain, Delfin Jonte, , NIX'S WARDEN, Wyolake , dj081704, So you want to be an Author, Jedi Master Albus, Charlie019, Stillgettintheheadshots11, unbroken wing and In caverns dark for their reviews. **_

_**To answer your questions:**_

_**Wyolake: My thinking was that Duncan really can't afford to regularly go around pissing people off by conscripting people and that all of his wardens would have strict instructions to be discreet in their recruiting. While busting Jowan out of solitary confinement would be great fun it would create a political shit-storm for Duncan. Think about it. Greagoir is enough of a hard-ass about giving help when there's an actual Blight on that is acknowledged by everyone (Loghain excluded) so what would he be like when there hasn't been a Blight in 400 years and Wardens are largely regarded as an antiquated order which serves no purpose? After the end of the Fourth Blight when Garahel slew Andoral the majority of the wardens had been killed during the 12 year long Blight. Such a large number of darkspawn were killed during that Blight that many people believed that there couldn't be any left and this was compounded by various monarchs saying that there would never be another Blight as a way to restore order. **_

_**NIX'S WARDEN: What makes you think the city elf and magi origins are out? The alienage is a large place and there are hundreds of mages in the Circle Tower. Why would Morcar be introduced to a lowly novice? I have some preliminary ideas on pairings but that might change as the story progresses. Remember; as far as can be gleamed from the game all the origins co-exist at the same time but it is only when Duncan is involved that one can live and all the others die. **_

_**Apollo Wings: You liked that, did you? Yes, it is rather convenient that nothing disastrous happens whilst The Warden is traipsing across Ferelden gathering allies. I think it's safe to say that things in reality would not be quite so easy. **_

_**Reaer000x151: To be honest with you I hadn't actually thought that far ahead yet. Assuming all the other wardens bar the origin warden and Alistair die there would be other repercussions of Morcar being senior. **_

_**Charlie019: Don't worry! From Alistair's conversation in the game about his Joining he makes it sound like there were at least two other recruits who lived. **_

_**Unbroken wing: Soldier's Peak is a location that will have an active role in this story and that will be discussed with Duncan before the events of the game take place. Howe's betrayal of the Couslands will still take place but whether or not any of them survive remains to be seen. **_

_**Sorry for the massive A/N. To the story! **_

* * *

Chapter 6

**Three months later. **

I dipped the cloth back into the bowl, gathering some vinegar soaked sand onto the end of it. Lifting it up out of the bowl I moved the cloth back to the gorget that I had been scrubbing rid of mud and grime. On the ride back from collecting funds from the few Bann's who supported the Wardens the bay gelding I had been ridding had been spooked by the loud crack of nearby thunder. He had reared, and having been taken by surprise, I was thrown from the saddle into the muddy road. I thus found myself back in the Compound scrubbing away furiously at my silverite armour.

I tried not to think about how I'd come to this world and my past life. Enough time had passed that I'd gotten used to most of the culture shocks. Things like having no running water and no electricity were relatively straightforward to adjust to. Everything was slower here. If I wanted a hot bath then water would have to be heated in great vats over a fire by the elven servants that we employed and then dumped into the bath. I couldn't just turn a knob in the wall and have instant hot water. You couldn't just hop onto a plane and find yourself in Gwaren. It took weeks of boring travel by horse to get anywhere. Gone also was being able to email someone and communicate instantaneously with someone halfway across the world. Everything was done by hand. If I wanted to send a report to Duncan while out in the Bannorn then I would have to write a letter using quill and ink and then pay a messenger to deliver it to him and wait for said messenger to reach Denerim and then come all the way back. It was all tremendously tedious. It was a welcome reprieve from being in the Deep Roads though. I'd been on at least a dozen expeditions to the Roads and though I'd gotten used to them to some extent I was always on edge and anxious down there. It was impossible to be at ease in crumbling tunnels teeming with vile darkspawn.

Then there was the fact there were aliens in this world. Aliens might have been a harsh thing to call dwarves and elves but it was hard to see them as completely normal when one came from a world where the only sentient life around was humans. That said, that didn't mean that I disliked dwarves and elves or stereotyped them as others in this world did. I treated everyone I came across as an individual and responded to them based on how they behaved. I forced myself to disregard the pointed ears and the dwarves who came up only halfway up my chest. Speaking of height that myth that medieval people were midgets is bullshit. Those tiny doors you see in old buildings? The smaller the door the less heat escapes. Big surprise, these people hardly have fibreglass insulation and double glazing. That said there was still a marginal height difference. It wasn't really noticeable with warriors or nobles. They had a good diet. They exercised. They were roughly the same height as me, although I tended to have a slight height advantage; doubtless due to the benefits of having grown up with plentiful food and modern medicine. Your average lower-class Fereldan was certainly several inches shorter than the average height of a man in the 21st century. Elves were even shorter. I hadn't seen a single one that I would have said to be above six foot. A lot of elves looked like children from a distance. Children with pointed ears.

I was nineteen and a half years old. I would be twenty by the time the events of the game took place. My body and mind had changed during the short amount of time that I'd been in this world that had previously been fantasy. For one, I'd bulked up, hour after hour of weapons practice with the other Wardens having strengthened my body. It was a good thing that Wade had anticipated my growth and made the armour slightly bigger than necessary. It fit me like a glove now. I'd gained new scars, too. In addition to the shallow vertical furrow across my face and the scar on my wrist I'd acquired a few others in scattered areas across my body. Most of them I got when I sparred against some of the more enthusiastic Wardens but some of them were earned in clashes against the darkspawn when the creatures managed to force their way through the minute gaps in my armour.

"_You have been chosen to become a part of this world." _Fuck you. In the first few weeks after my arrival in Thedas I constantly thought back to that line. I have been chosen. Who chose me? This world. Implies there are others. What others? Parallel universes? Why me? _"Help The Warden." _ Why? The Warden does fine in the game. The Archdemon dies. The Wardens win. Why do I need to help? What can I possibly do to help? I'll die at Ostagar, If not before. Why me?

I miss my family.

I miss my mum.

I miss my dad.

I miss my sister.

I miss my brother.

I cried. I used to always scoff at girls. Their crying annoyed me. My wails and mood swings would have made even the most sensitive girl look like a callous brute. How I was wracked with self-pity and fury at whoever brought me here during those first few months! I found catharsis in battle. There's a release when you fight for your life. You're at your most primal. Fight or flight. I didn't want to flee. I wanted to unleash my anger and resentment on someone or something. After I killed those bandits I threw up. I was disgusted. Their hacked flesh revolted me. I was responsible for their deaths. In the blink of an eye I exterminated their lives. That wasn't what bothered me. The assholes wanted to kill me for money and they murdered Carac and Kend. What bothered me was that I… enjoyed their deaths. I was guilty that I didn't feel guilty about killing. I felt a fierce delight in defeating my enemies. There's a joy in battle. It's simple. There are no agonising questions coursing through your mind about whether or not you're ever going to go home and see your friends and family. It's just you and the person or thing trying to kill you. It's the ultimate competition. Survival of the fittest.

For the first few months that I'd been in Denerim I'd felt helplessly outraged at the beating down of the elven race. The squalor that was the Denerim Alienage was morally repugnant. Penned within its crumbling walls in cramped tenements offering conditions reminiscent of those experienced by countless Jews during World War II were two thousand elves. A few weeks after my Joining I'd gone to the Alienage knowing that I would never be able to make a big difference but wanting to help in any way I could despite it.

* * *

_As I hesitantly walked the filthy street stepping over piles of refuse and human waste I was taken aback by the utter loathing and fear blazing in the eyes of the elves as they stared at me. They were a sorry lot. Many of them were emaciated with fleshless bony limbs and sunken faces, and yet they still went about their daily lives determined to eke out a living in a world set against them. A group of elven children so thin I could see their ribcages were digging through a pile of rubbish, looking for something worthwhile to salvage no doubt. I approached them in the hopes of asking to be led to Valendrian. They scurried away as soon as they saw me. I stopped. A flicker of movement drew my eye. Four adult elves were warily making their way towards me. They eyed the belted sword I wore over a surcoat with the Grey Warden heraldry. Other elves were huddled in groups watching me from their ramshackle tenements. The elves stopped five paces from me. One of them, the oldest, took another step forward. We examined each other silently. The elf's hair had been turned completely white with age, creases wrinkled his ancient face and there were dark circles underneath his eyes. He gazed at me with a look that exuded serene patience. _

"_To what do we owe the visit, Warden? Has Duncan sent you?" _

"_No. My name is Morcar. I came here of my own volition. I mean you or your people no harm. Is there somewhere we could talk in private?" I said, uncomfortably conscious of scores of pairs of eyes burning a hole in my back. _

_He looked at me a few moments longer, pondering something, before nodding. _

"_Yes, forgive me.I am Hahren Valendrian, or as your kind would have it; Elder." _

"_It is an honour to meet you. Duncan speaks highly of you." _

_His lips quirked upward in amusement. "Very well, Warden. I must confess I am curious as to what brings you here." _

_Once in his house – a modest cottage by human standards but palatial for the Alienage – the conversation continued. _

"_You may struggle to believe this but I am vehemently against the locking away of your kind in Alienages and I came here today to lend assistance." I paused, watching a startled expression flicker across his face before he composed himself. _

_He smiled, "Sadly many of your race do not think as you do."_

"_Indeed," I replied "I'm just one person but when I'm on duty in Denerim I'll do all I can to help you. Would you prefer monetary aid or is there anything that you need that you wouldn't be able to acquire as an elf?" _

"_You trust me not to hoard whatever you give me?" he said, raising a bushy eyebrow. _

"_I trust Duncan's faith in you and that you'll give to those who have the greatest need." _

_He nodded approvingly, "And I will. Basic necessities and food can be paid for but the merchants are forbidden to sell us anything that could be used as a weapon. That deprives us of the tools we need to build any housing for my people; I'm sure you've noticed the sorry state of the buildings in the Alienage."_

_He spoke passionately, looking me in the eye the whole time, perhaps afraid that I would withdraw my offer if he didn't plead his case well enough. I placed five coins on the table. The heavy gold sovereigns gleamed dully on the table. The portraits of King Cailan beamed up at us. _

_Valendrian stared at the coins. _

"_These… these are for… us?" he spoke haltingly, voice low. _

"_Yes. What tools do you need?"_

"_Tools?"_ _He seemed surprised that I was offering more. "Erm… hammers, saws, planes, axes, chisels and nails." _

"_I'll do what I can. It'll take a quite a few trips to get you all you need. I'll have to spread them over a few months. I don't want to draw the eye of the guard. I'd be fine as a Warden if they found those tools but it would go… poorly for you." I explained._

"_You'll already done much." He said gesturing to the coins. "This will save the lives of many that would otherwise die of malnutrition or disease. You're a good person." He told me feelingly._

"_I'm just doing what's right. I wish I could do more." I was embarrassed. _

"_Things could be worse, Warden Morcar. The Alienage may not have the best living conditions but at least we aren't still slaves to the Tevinters. The walls of the Alienage also keep those that would do us harm out."_

_I glanced at the darkening sky through the open window next to me. _

"_I must take my leave now; they will be expecting me at the Compound. I will be back in a few days with the first of the tools."_

_He thanked me again and then I left._

* * *

Since then whenever I was in Denerim I went to the Alienage every week or so in full armour and wearing a cloak. The armour to mask the clanking of the various things I smuggled in over its own noise as I moved around and in the cloak I sewed various loops and straps on the inside to conceal my cargo from the guards. Over time I'd managed to transport scores of tools and bags of nails and other needed items into the Alienage. Some things I didn't have to smuggle and I could just walk in with or have delivered to Valendrian. I had a dozen hens, two cocks and four goats shipped to Valendrian by a local man who had a farm a few miles from Denerim. Initially I'd been able to fund all this and my donations to Valendrian by using part of my wages and the loot I gained in battle. However, the funds that I'd managed to squirrel away soon disappeared. As the elves learned of their benefactor some of them had wanted to thank me by giving me various crafted gifts or small amounts of money. Initially I'd politely declined them all, self-conscious about not wanting to seem an opportunist, but when I mentioned my money problems to Valendrian he persuaded me to accept them, stating that if the elves wished to thank me who was I to decline?

The additional stream of revenue from the elves was helpful. Grateful elves that had their homes improved and their children given extra food were not able to reward me much; but there were many of them. I'd stopped losing coins and I started accumulating them in a slow trickle. I put them to good use. One third of the coin I collected I saved as funds to go towards the war against the darkspawn, another third I kept for when I needed things for myself. The last part went towards helping the elves.

I'd told Duncan what I'd been doing. He'd given me a searching look that I felt searing my soul, nodded and then grunted _"Don't get caught; it would create difficulties for me." _

I persuaded Valendrian to accept more martial offerings in light of what I knew would befall the Alienage. I'd given him twenty iron daggers, five iron swords, five shortbows and bundles of arrows to safely hide somewhere. It wasn't enough weapons if the elves planned to revolt. That wasn't my intention, though. I just wanted them to have a handful of weapons they could fall back upon to use in self-defence. The weapons had been expensive but it was worth it.

After a few months the elves had gradually thawed and while they weren't exactly friendly, they were polite and at least they didn't want to kill the filthy shem anymore.

All this I thought about as I scrubbed the last speck of mud from my backplate.

_There. That's the last of my armour cleaned. I hate mud. Damn horse. _

Gathering the various pieces of armour into my arms, I made my way to the room I shared with my magi friend Carac. He was one of the few Fereldan volunteers, having Joined a little over seven years ago. I didn't see him often as he was often on patrol when I was at the Compound and vice versa. Magic. It fascinated me. The slightest levitation or fireball intrigued me and I was viciously jealous of my mage comrades. Such supernatural things as the magic that I witnessed almost every day and could not deny had other implications. The ashes of Andraste, for example. They worked in the game; they saved Eamon's life. There was the gauntlet full of ghosts. Did that also mean there actually was a God? A Maker? These questions troubled me. Before I came here I'd been a stalwart atheist who delighted in throwing difficult questions and arguments at my believer friends. Now? I found myself becoming somewhat of an agnostic.

I placed my burden on the armour stand in my corner of the room. Francis had imposed a strict order on me. Horse, weapons, armour, me. That was the order in which things were to be tended to. It made enough sense. After all, the gelding I usually rode, Tonnerre - thunder in Orlesian - was a living creature and deserved to be looked after for dutifully carting me around Ferelden. Also, what use would be my equipment if I neglected it and let it rust? It also made more sense to do things in that order, have a bath, and then not have to get dirty again. Another one of Francis' mantras was "_Train hard; fight easy." _ Common sense perhaps in theory but extremely unpleasant for me in practice. I cleaned myself in the warm bath that had been drawn up while I was tending to my armour and once I had towelled myself off I pulled on the formal Warden clothes that I'd been given.

I wore a dark grey doublet trimmed in marine blue faced with small silver buttons and embroidered with a gryphon on the breast. My lower body was covered in a loose fitting grey hose and polished black knee high boots. My hands were covered in tight black leather gloves and my sword and dagger were freshly oiled, polished and were belted around my waist.

I was ready to go to a tourney.

* * *

_**A/N: I'm sorry this chapter is so short after such a long time between updates! I have A2 exams in a couple of weeks and I've been focusing on revision for them! After that I'll be done with school - Freedom! - and I'll have more time to post more chapters. I appreciate there's no action to speak of in this chapter but I wanted to spend time on character development and to share a few thoughts I've had. I promise the next chapter will be extra long! **_


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